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The Battle of Leva Audium- Perspective of the Vix Agarra
The Battle of Leva Audium Illiv remembered well the words that his childhood friend had told him so long ago: “''the actions of silent men speak the loudest.” They had proven to be invaluable, or so he estimated, in the past few days. He nodded at the two men guarding the war tent. The soldier on the left was clad in dark leather armor over black robes, a number of knives, trinkets, and fetishes hanging from a series of loops, belts and pockets. The bleeding eye of the Vix Agarra was emblazoned in a dark green geometric pattern on his left shoulder, and he bore the demeanor of a mercenary; loosely held together but somehow dangerously sharp. His counterpart was in almost every way his opposite. Wearing a full suit of plate armor with faded pink trim, he stood confident and projected an aura of strength that reminded Illiv of a painted stone cliff. The bleeding eye of the Vix was painted in twisting yellow tendrils across the center of the man’s chest plate. However, both men shared one trait- their eyes were drinking in every detail of Illiv as he strode toward them with a sense undisguised childish wonder. He met their gaze one by one, and opened his soul to them. ''Here I am. See me. Know me. Illiv had made it a point to only enter the camp at night. He rarely spoke to any of the men, and when he did he made certain to leave an impression. Illiv knew that many of them believed him to be sacred some way, despite being uncertain of his actual significance within the hierarchy of their organization, and he fed off of their belief. Rumors bearing his name tore through not only the Vix camp, but through Tighan’s entire army like wildfire. Rumors that he ate the dead, that you could see the spirits of loved ones in his shadows. He knew them well, as he had invented many of them, then sent them to grow like weeds through the Vixs’ network of spies. Yes, there was power in perception and as Illiv entered the war tent he felt assured that he had chosen his allies well. Each of the characters before him seemed to boldly assert themselves with their presence. Evaerus looked like a king of old, clad in plate armor with a thick black cloak bearing the Eye trailing behind him. He clasped hands with Illiv. He turned around and smiled at a fair haired man in dull white robes. Grey eyes glinted with trickster’s wit. “See, I told you he’s real!” Laesya, spymaster. ''Illiv had corresponded with the man much, and felt a slight tinge of excitement at finally meeting the man. A pacifist monk dedicated to the Seven, Illiv did not fully trust Laesya but found him too intriguing to keep at a distance. Laesya laughed and bowed. “Our illustrious Prophet.” ''Bait. A good spy indeed. “''We meet at last.” The two other men from Arkrest, warriors from the look at them, shared a glance and then bowed as well. “An honor.” Illiv bowed deeper. “Illustrious Silence, I am no spymaster and thus have no talent for subtleties. I will say now that I am no more a prophet than you think I am.” From a corner, Sapientia laughed. “Prophet? Try traveling with him. I watched him squeal like a babe when he found a leech on his heel after spending an afternoon fishing.” “It was very large,” Illiv replied, nonplussed. Nodding to the large blonde warrior to Laesya’s left he continued “Slaughter Engrad, I assume?” The man grunted and nodded. Illiv met the man’s icy blue stare and he did not look away. ''I like him. He’s a true killer. The warrior by Engrad’s side extended a calloused hand and Illiv shook it. “Jaroge, a pleasure, lord.” Illiv acknowledged the man, taking note of the rigid posture and misshapen knuckles that he bore. “Now that we’re all introduced, let us begin.” Evaerus said. He unfurled a map of the city onto a small table in the center of the tent. It looked as though it had been drawn by a child who had been taking directions from another man who had seen the interior of the city, once. A number of letters and symbols cluttered the edges of the paper “I have produced this masterpiece diagram from the shining insight of Illiv’s vast and intricate web of informants” He gave Illiv a pointed look; for the map had not been drawn by a child who had been taking directions from a man who had seen the interior of the city, once. Rather it had been drawn by a man, one named Evaerus, taking directions from a child, one named Nico, who had seen the interior of the city exactly twice. “Tighan has given the Gildorian Vix, lead by myself, the honor of being the first armored unit to breach the gates following their planned destruction by ram. Our hundred backed by another three companies of his heavies, it should be fairly clean as far as a breach goes. There will be several waves of attempts to take the wall via ladder, Sapi you and Jaroge will be in charge of the easternmost portion of the wall during varying waves, and will be taking orders directly from Isan, Tighan’s second. As I understand it, you’re both acquainted?” Both parties nodded. Laesya shot Illiv a glance and rolled his eyes. “What an honor…” he murmured. Illiv inclined his head. Evaerus continued, “Laesya, you do whatever the hell spymaster things. If you and your Secrets feel feisty, you can join the wall monkeys under Sapi. Illiv…I assume that’s where you’ll be? Unless you’ve changed your mind about that nice trim suit of plate I suggested for you” he said with a chuckle. The suit in question was a brighter pink than the others, and weighed almost as much as Illiv did. “The better to see our illustrious leader with.” “Yes, Evaerus. I’ll be joining Sapi, as will Laesya---” “We’re feeling feisty!” the spymaster cut in. “Yes. Feisty.” Illiv could hardly help but smile just a bit. “Very feisty. There is a slight alteration that must be made in our plans. I have not been entirely honest with you all, and have very important news.” He paused a moment and looked at each of the people around him before continuing. “As you know, when I met with Lydia at her camp, I declared her a heretic and vowed that we would take her life. This was a lie. I have not a single doubt in my soul that she truly is the incarnation of Unquala on this world.” The room was utterly still. “We are here, fighting alongside Tighan that we might betray him. It is the will of our goddess. We fight for a divine cause. Our Goddess is with us. Our direction is certain.” Illiv had dropped his voice to a whisper, but bit the words as he spoke them. “We are more now than just a church, than a religion. We are a hand of our God, taking orders directly from her holy words.” Evaerus was the first to speak. Illiv had warned him the night before that he had “plan altering news,” but he was hardly prepared for this. Still, his voice did not waver as he said “Then we do her will.” Quietly, one by one, the others spoke the same. “Since this will be a difficult thing to achieve without all of us, and our men, dying, for we are outnumbered roughly six to one as I understand it, we have two plans. One being a contingency should the other, feistier, plan fail.” Illiv smiled at Evaerus. Evaerus always loved the feistier plans, and he scowled back ferociously. “We will split several of our Arkrest men aside from the whole of the group, and they shall wear cleric’s vestments. If asked during the start of the conflict, we will inform our leaders that they do not plan to fight. Jaroge’s small force will join the second scaling wave. They will likely, more likely now, be thrown back. Sapi is scheduled to lead the east flank on the fourth wave, the wave before the ram is brought in, hopefully to keep the defenders busy while our men break through the great door. She will be joined by the force of men who we previously declared as non-fighting. I doubt anyone will complain. The primary goal of the eastern section of the fourth wave is to seize and disable the two massive cauldrons of heated oil that rest in the gate towers. Now, odds are, Nashus’ men will be retreating if the fourth wave pushes hard enough. It makes most sense for them to try to inflict as much damage as possible on these walls and then to retreat to the castle where they can more easily deal with the combined threat of Darshia and Tighan. So, ideally, the fourth wave pushes hard, the walls are abandoned, and the gate is opened from the inside. The Gildorian Vix enter through the gates first, and the moment they cross the threshold of the great doors, we pour the boiling oil on the Gildorian heavies, cut the throats of the other men on the wall, and run. The Arkrest Vix on the walls will cover the Gildorian Vix on the ground with projectile fire from weapons seized from Nashus’ dead men, backing east down that section of the wall while Evaerus leads the Gildorian Vix back into the city. We regroup hopefully with Darshia’s men on the other side of the wall.” Illiv paused and scanned the room. He noticed that Engrad had closed his eyes. “It seems sound. I am a firm believer that most plans going into a battle die the moment they are conceived, but this seem simple enough. I don’t even know if we’ll need a contingency.” A ripple of agreement spread across the tent. “Well, just in case, I will explain the contingency. Should things go poorly, and we lack either the presence in the tower, or the boiling oil itself to cover our retreat, I will loudly announce a prayer from the wall after the defenders are routed. We will gather, and wait for Tighan’s heavies to pass our group in entry, the moment their backs are turned, we fan out among them and then cut their throats from behind. This will be much messier and more dangerous, since if we fail to seize the tower and re-bar the door, Tighan’s regulars will run through us while the surviving heavies block our exit. Hopefully it will not come to this.” “Also sound. I suggest that we all take some time to meditate on the matter and think things through. We will reconvene the next night and discuss the practicalities and possible failings of this plan?” All agreed, except for Engrad who had not yet opened his eyes. ******************* “How do we decide who takes which wall? Some of the men will get to live after all. We are arbiters of their fate, how do we decided which die and which live?” Laesya tossed Illiv a pair of white flowing robes and pursed his thin lips. He searched through his pocket and found a coin. “Let the fates decide.” Illiv held the robes to his nose and made a face. “Filthy monk.” He sighed, “a classic answer. Not bad. But cannot many forces influence fate? Not all are benevolent.” “I threw you my oldest pair. It’s what you deserve. You ought to be more humble.” He arched an eyebrow at Illiv, who raised one back. “You’re not wrong.” He put the robes on. The concealed the armor underneath perfectly. “So how often do you wear armor under these things?” “Only when I’m in Arkrest. Since we’ve left, spending all this time surrounded by armed men who I know I’m going to betray has been very relieving. Much safer than any amount of time spent with Botard.” The monk spoke with little humor. “I feel like west. My gut tells me.” Illiv scowled towards the wall. Arkrest. Laesya flipped the coin. “Heads, and I get to take west.” “No, I trust my instincts. My soul is spoken for. None other than Unquala is influencing my fate.” Laesya smiled and revealed the coin. Heads. “But now we know that someone else has their eye on us.” His grin was feral. Illiv grunted, “Filthy monk.” ********************* The eastern wall was taken, and the screams echoed through the guard towers as Illiv walked across a platform to reach the western wall. There was a nook behind a winding staircase leading upwards. He stepped into the nook and looked around. Boots clamored upon the stone, but no eyes were upon him. He discarded the stained bloody white robes Laesya had given him to reveal a chain and leather uniform used by Tighan’s infantry. He pulled a knotted climbing rope from a pack, and began to walk calmly towards to door to the western wall. All was quiet there; the fighting was done. Illiv headed out into the sun, and towards the edge of the wall. One man standing in a small circle near the entrance addressed him “Did the east fall as easy as the west?” “Not quite, but it’s over now.” The man grunted and continued. Their circle stood around a slumped body leaning against the stone. Both of its eyes were bloody pits, and Illiv could overhear the soldiers speculating what had killed the man in such a manner. Illiv walked to the ledge of the wall opposite the scaling ladder that had let these few men onto the wall. One of Tighan’s officers stood leaning upon it, looking out at the city. “Excuse me, sir.” Illiv focused on the rope in his hands. “Oh of course, sorry.” The soldier who had been catching his breath on the parapet moved aside and leaned over, looking down. You could just start to see Tighan’s armored knights making their way through the gate. He bore the cloak of a man of rank among Tighan’s army. His name was Waulf Orbrin, and he was a captain in Tighan’s army. “Eerie, aren’t they?” The captain referenced the rising pitch of Evaerus’ sermon taking place under the gates. He looped it around the parapet and dangled it down the inner part of the wall. “I’ll say. People’ve killed each other as long as they’ve existed, and they’ve never needed a god to help ‘em.” He stared out over the parapet with the soldier, in the distance you could still see Nashus’ soldiers sprinting through the streets to the castle. “The worst part is still ahead…” Said the man at Illiv’s side. “We’ll make it, friend. We fought here and won. We’ll win again.” Illiv shot the soldier a smile and offered a hand. “It’s our destiny!” The soldier took the hand and they pulled each other close into an embrace. The metal of their breast plates clanked hard, but Illiv only heard Evaerus’ zealous sermon in the background. “And who among us fear the flames!” '' The soldiers roared in reply ''“None!” Illiv plunged the dagger up and under the captain’s breastplate. Punching into the man’s lungs winded him and he gasped. Illiv pulled their fatal embrace tighter and glanced over Waulf’s shoulder. The other men on the wall were focused on the roaring flames of the oil, dumped in the middle of Tighan’s armored knights. Their screams were frantic. Like fire itself. He grasped the plumage on the captain’s helmet and pulled back hard, then thrust the dagger into the man’s neck. He walked over to the next man on the wall. “Holy shit! What the hell are you doing looking? Get the fuck down there!” The other man started, then looked around as if confused. “Fuck! Of course! Get down there!” Illiv kept screaming “Get down there! Go help!” and watched as the entire wall cleared itself, the men funneling into the western tower where they would be met by Sapientia and the other Arkrest Vix coming down from higher in the tower and slaughtered in a hail of crossbow fire. Illiv strolled over to the singular ladder that had been thrown upon the western wall. It had come up as the fighting ended, the heavy push from the fourth wave having cleared the eastern portion of wall and subsequently the tower in short order. Nashus’ men had abandoned the west with almost no conflict. He tossed a loop of rope around the top rung, then pulled on the ladder. It moved only slightly, but he only needed to leverage it into a more upright position. Grabbing the rope, he sprinted to the other side of the wall where the knotted climbing rope had been thrown over earlier, grabbing it in his other hand and leaping over. The rope fixed to the ladder behind him snapped taut, and he braced himself with his legs as he swung hard into the wall opposite him. He hung on that rope, and slowly made his way down the wall, feeling it sliding progressively faster as the ladder tilted horizontally across the wall, then shunted quickly into the ground in front of Illiv. It hit the cobbles hard, then slid and fell, garnering the attention of several of Tighan’s knights who had been caught on opposite side of the flames as the Vix. Three of them turned to Illiv. Flames danced in the reflections held by their armor. Illiv stopped, briefly frozen by indecision. Blood pounded hard in his ears, and he could hear Engrad’s voice from the night before. “She wants us to kill as many as we can. We should retake the walls and see how long we can hold them.” “And try to fight Tighan’s knights three against one trapped on the other side?” Evaerus had scoffed. '' ''“We pour the oil onto the knights, then fight our own way through.” He had paused and stared straight at Illiv. “We fight into the fire. We are Vix Agarra. We don’t fear death.” '' ''And Illiv had nodded. “We kill as many as we can.” He had imagined himself at the time among the flames, fighting and dying with Evaerus. But they had too few men to clear both the walls, and only one of Tighan’s uniforms to spare. Laesya and a handful of the Arkrest Vix had been assigned the duty of clearing the east while Illiv joined under Tighan’s captain Waulf in clearing the west. There was no way he could win this fight. One of the knights had already began to move after Illiv, and he made his decision. Run. Sprinting around the corner of a long cluster of buildings, Illiv hoped to be able to circle around and flank the knights. Glory would wait. But Leva Audium had other plans. The cluster of buildings extended, twisted, and writhed, turning in and upon Illiv and leaving him utterly lost. He could hear the sounds of conflict all around him, echoing like mocking laughter upon the cobbled streets, and tried to recall the map he had studied the night before. It was to no avail. He paused in his sprint as he considered his predicament, and exhaustion hit him in a wave. I should have practiced my drills in armor. Evaerus was right. I was a proud fool. ''He looked down at the chainmail hanging from his torso and saw that it was covered in the captain’s blood from earlier. He couldn’t afford to lose it. He removed his helmet and tossed it down the street. ''Better. I feel like I can breathe. The less that could identify him as a soldier of any side the better. Hopefully. He ran off in the direction of the nearest sounds of combat, and came upon a great fight, backing towards him. A group of men bearing Nashus’ sigil stumbled around a corner One of them looked at Illiv and asked “Who are you?” just before a crossbow bolt thudded solidly into his throat. As the man gurgled and hit the ground, Illiv mad his decision, rushing in the direction the man had come from to see a small battle. A group of mercenaries led by a man with glowing blue eyes in a draconian leather helmet was pushing Nashus’ men back across the streets. Illiv walked behind Nashus’ line, and put his sword through one man’s throat, and then another and another, as he raced down their line disengaging just as he was noticed. As soon as Nashus’ line turned upon the new threat, the mercenaries cut them down. A stocky blonde man bearing a claymore larger than the soldier who wielded it hacked his way towards Illiv with terrible efficiency. He plunged the into the heart of a man lying on the ground with a grunt, then looked up at Illiv to say “Hey! Well done, friend!” The fighter with the blue eyes sighed and leaned over his spear as the remaining half dozen of their unit began to pester him with questions. He ignored them all and lit a cigar. ********************************* Engrad breathed in, a gasping desperate breath that inhaled fire, blood, and the screams of dying knights. He exhaled as he swung Cataclysm, violently expelling all that he had just taken in. Fire danced upon the blade, blood pooled on the ground. The scream was his, and he could see primal terror in the eyes of the knights standing before him. He torqued his body for another great cleave before and as men before him flinched, he deftly leaned left, stabbing the point of his blade under another knight’s chin. Once his rage had consumed him, but now Engrad consumed his rage. He killed faster, more efficient, than he ever had before. He had trained relentlessly the last few months with the best men Arkrest had to offer to prepare himself for these few moments charging through the fire. He had been prideful at first, and when Botard had suggested it he had shrugged it off. Then came the monk. He could see Laesya now in his periphery, guarding the gate winch. Bright white weaving among the grey and orange- blood never stained his robes; he refused to kill. But Engrad knew the truth. The man was a savage, no different than him. When he fought, it was to humiliate his enemy. To hurt them as little as possible and still defeat them. Striking the most painful parts of the body, edging as near to crippling as he could. It was a game and when Botard first welcomed the monk into their order he had played Engrad like a fool. That was when the training began. Never again. He could still picture the monk’s cocky smile as he gloated over Engrad all those months ago. “You did well, you really did!” The thought of it made his muscles burn like fire, and when Cataclysm next fell the man in front of him was split with a massive gash from shoulder to mid-torso. His plate armor was rent like paper. Engrad screamed. The flames called for slaughter. Slaughter. Engrad. “Slaughter Engrad!” He wheeled around to see an older man, clad in the pink and yellow of a Gildorian Vix. Scars ran across his grizzled visage, and yet despite his veteran appearance his face was wracked with fear. “Slaughter Engrad, Lord Evaerus has lost his mind! He screams for you, and when Blade Felkyn tried to approach him he cut him in two!” The man paused and grimaced at the knight that Engrad had just obliterated. “Just…just like that, sir. Not human.” “Don’t call me sir. We are all Vix. Unquala walks with us.” Engrad considered the way that the knight’s armor had screamed and torn before his sword. “She guides our blades.” He could see the rising of a great ax in the distance, deep among the enemy. It seemed to glow a faint red, or was that just the glint of the blood among the flames? Engrad’s blood began to boil as he sprinted towards it. He could hear voices faintly around him, but the sound of his own heartbeat had drown them all out. The ax fell again. Again. Again. How many of our own men was that? '' *************************** ''Well pardon me for being a bit of a jealous '''bitch'. Maybe you’ll think twice about wanting to use someone else.'' Of course, Love. You know I only desire you. There was no need to kill Felkyn though. We could have just challenged Engrad to fight, or maybe just asked to let me unforge his sword. '' He felt a flicker of pleasure at that thought. She stroked his cheek so gently, with fingers so soft. ''We worship the goddess of death, that man won’t mind having died. I’m sure. It was the best way to get his attention. I don’t just want to fight Engrad, I want to fight him '''now'. That rusty nail of his likes rage- well I can’t wait to show it what real fury is.'' Of course, Darling. More knights! Look at those arcs! Your form is delightful today. He’s coming! I can feel that '''whore' sword of his. '' Evaerus could feel a surge of rage pour through him. His movements were hardly his own. He could see one of Tighan’s knights turn to run into the city. More would follow. He felt a twinge of guilt for Blade Felkyn, and then another twinge of guilt for having made Delilah jealous. He had gazed a little too long upon that fine blade Engrad carried. Who wouldn’t be upset by something like that? ***************************** Stranglevine. ''Sapienta’s staff twirled around the soldier’s sword. Blossom. His throat crunched. She struck his left leg to send him falling towards his ally coming up behind him. They crashed into each other and he moved a step down on the stairway. She was made for this kind of fighting, it made her feel proud. “All you have to do is hold off the men in the tower while Jaroge and his men pick them off with their crossbows. They shouldn’t have any range of their own- they were scalers after all.” Not that she minded when they used their bows. They were much sloppier than she had expected! She remembered how bad it had hurt when the blunted arrows that master Saeyr fire at her in training had struck her. But he was a much better shot than these humans, half the time their arrows wouldn’t even come for her center of mass, they just whirled around a whole lot of them hoping to hit something if they shot enough! Bolts thudded into two assailants who tried to rush out of the tower to flank the Vix fighting on the ground beneath. Two more managed to make it out of their line of sight. She scowled and resolved to fight harder. She took another step. ''Stormwind. She barraged them with Veritas; exhausting, repeated thrusts, sweeps and sharp turns towards faces, knees, throats and groins. Soldiers fell. A man who she had stepped over reached for her leg, but it seemed to move away from its hand of its own accord, her reflexes taking hold of her body. She fell into a trance. Faster! And then a scream broke her reverie. A sword cut through her vambrace and she could feel a trickle of blood. She pushed aside the pain and with a grunt kicked her attacker back. She glanced quickly out of the window she stood by to the courtyard below. And there, the source of the scream. Evaerus. A small clearing had formed around him, and he stood among a pile of mutilated corpses. Like an eye in a storm. She made a note to memorize the image, and perhaps to discuss its symbolism with Illiv afterwards. Lilyspider. She weaved past a thrust and countered. An assailant fell back. Her attention returned to the courtyard. Evaerus was turned towards the large blonde Soan, Slaughter Engrad. Evaerus charged. No! She had sensed evil in him before. She should have trusted her instincts; she should have warned Illiv. And just like that she had leapt out the window. She could hear exclamations of surprise behind her. Slaughter Jaroge could take her place, he had been upset that she was chosen over him to hold the attackers at bay anyway, but the staircase was narrow and her fighting was superior. Her title was Protection, and she could not let this pass. ******************** “Lady…My Love…Darling…” Engrad smashed the top of his skull into Evaerus’ nose. Cataclysm’s blade ground against the haft of the ax, its edge biting against the handguard. He hefted up and stepped back, twisting his weapon to disengage from Evaerus. The man, the Heart of the Vix Agarra, was surely possessed. His eyes stared at images that surely did not exist, and his constant murmuring about love chilled Engrad. His hair whipped wildly across his face, sticky with blood. Engrad wondered if Laesya had known. He recalled the monk’s words the last time they had practiced. “Engrad there are always bigger fish. Sometimes they don’t seem it, but magic is deadly. It hides in dark places, in little nooks and crannies. And make no mistake, it is '''powerful'.” '' As if to punctuate the thought, Evaerus roared. Blood streamed down his face and he shoved the ax forward, stepping towards Engrad, allowing him no time to truly disengage. His bold headbutt had barely even dazed the man. He raised Cataclysm to block once more. The impact of the hit far belied the hasty small arc of the swing, but Engrad’s body tightened like steel and he did not flinch. He saw sparks though, and saw a chip in Catalysm’s blade. Before he could react, Evaerus had reared back for another deadly swing. He attempted to at least parry the blow, but the downward momentum of the ax was like the fall of a star. Cataclysm spun out of Engrad’s hands. He wasted no time though, rolling low and into Evaerus’ legs. He grabbed a heavy object from the ground, from the corpses beneath him. A mace. He swung it into Evaerus’ knee and there was a sickening crunch. Engrad continued with his momentum, moving past Evaerus, and grabbing a spear. He could finish him off at a distance now. But no. He turned to see Evaerus’ back as he turned. The handles of two knives protruded from it. His leg was cocked out at a horrific angle. He stood uneven, but did not fall. Woman’s laughter escaped through his lips. Evaerus’ eyes opened wide, and he charged. Engrad desperately thrust the spear forward. He heard a scornful woman’s voice scream “WHORE!” as Evaerus chopped down upon the spear mid charge, severing the wood cleanly. Engrad knew he was going to die. But then, there was a crack like the striking of a great bell as a golden staff collided with the side of Evaerus’ helmet. His eyes rolled back and he dropped to the ground. A large dent was now imprinted into the helm, and blood poured from under the helmet across his face. Sapientia stood at his flank, and offered Engrad a hand. “I knew he couldn’t be trusted. I have your back, Engrad.” She smiled and helped him up. “Evil has no place here.” He glanced around the courtyard. Most of Tighan’s heavies had retreated. “We’re still under siege. Come, Protection, we should go to the wall.” Sapientia scowled. “You’re welcome.” Engrad grunted. “And thank you.” As he sprinted towards the staircase though, he saw members of the Vix. Not looking at fear towards Evaerus’ body, but with awe. Laesya had stepped forwards and appeared to be leading a group in some sort of prayer. Engrad’s eyes fell upon the soft smile that played on the man’s lips. His clean white robes. And Engrad felt his blood beginning to boil once more. ************************** Illiv followed the mercenaries all the way to the throne room, though their journey was by no means a simple one. Fighting in the streets of Leva Audium was intense, and Nashus’ men knew the area best. They lost almost all of the men they had started with, though Elzarik, the man who had greeted Illiv, and his lord Cynar fought with Illiv until the end. They hailed from the Kingdom of Akron and fought for Darshia Whitefang, and Illiv counted himself lucky to have them as allies. After the fighting had ended, Darshia claimed the throne and Illiv managed to find the rest of the Vix. They had one hundred and eighteen wounded men and three hundred and two dead, after a number of the wounded had chosen the Merciful Path. They had brought five hundred and nine to the field. Still, the following night as Illiv made towards the healers tent where he heard that Evaerus was being tended to by Laesya, Illiv felt alive. He could feel that Unquala, Lydia, was pleased with him. There was no cloud of death draining his strength; he was animated, alive like lightning. As he neared the tent, a large figure stepped from a fire to intercept him. “''Prophet.” Engrad. I’m glad he lived''. “Yes, Slaughter?” “I’d like to speak with you. About today’s events. Before Laesya can.” He pursed his lips, and Illiv could sense the man’s concern. “Should we sit down?” Illiv motioned towards the fire. “Yes.” Engrad recalled all that he had seen. The Vix had fought hard along the wall but were unable to keep it. They had retreated into the city only to be greeted by relentless ambushes and traps. Eventually their retinue of wounded became so great that they were unable to traverse the city safely, and so they attempted to take hold of a well-fortified plaza. Mercenaries hired by Nashus, some of them bearing the insignia of the Laughing Skulls, Engrad noted with a curse, found them though and harried them for hours. They were saved however, after a young girl with a weeping wound across her jaw climbed out of a building and told Sapientia she had a place where they could hide their wounded. “She said her name was Nico and that she was friends with you.” Engrad looked at Illiv expectantly, and the other man nodded. “When that monk offered her coin she spat in his face and told him he knew nothing about religion.” Both men laughed. “So I’d say you chose your ally well.” Engrad continued to explain how Nico had led Laesya and the wounded into a series of tunnels underneath a nearby church, and that he and Sapientia moved ahead with the few fighting Vix and were able to push past the mercenary line. They made it to the palace, where they met a company of strange looking mercenaries dressed in black who claimed to have fought for Lord Darshia. They said their job was to protect the palace while he seized the throne, and so the Vix stayed with them until the fighting was over. Engrad mentioned that they were an interesting group, and that their leader wished to speak with Illiv when he had the chance. They had hailed from a land called Antioch, and worshipped no gods. When he finished his story, Illiv nodded. “And you worry about Evaerus, that some sort of curse was put upon him by Laesya.” “Yes.” Illiv looked into the fire and thought for a time before answering. “Evaerus has had this curse for as long as I’ve known him, I doubt any of it has to do with Laesya. Though I don’t trust the monk either. I’ll find out what I can about what he did to Evaerus after the fight and I’ll report back to you personally, Engrad.” “Thank you.” Engrad frowned for a moment, thinking of all the letters Botard read so often and about how poor his own ability to read the language of Lancerus was. He would have to find someone to hasten his learning. “Engrad, I’d like to invite you to something similar to a promotion.” The large man scowled. “Speak plain.” “Do you know what my actual function is within the Vix Agarra?” Engrad paused. It was a trick question somehow, he knew. No one really knew what it was Illiv did. Only that he was important. “No. I don’t.” “Good, honest answer. I started it. And when I started it, do you know what I wanted it to be?” “No. Of course not. I said don’t ask me stupid questions.” Engrad choked for a moment “I mean…Lord Illiv. I’d like it if you didn’t ask me stupid questions.” “No, you were right. None of that Lord stuff. I was born a commoner in northern Gildor. Never forget that in the eyes of death a King is no different than a peasant, and we of the Vix Agarra should be the voice of Unquala.” “Yes, Botard has said that. I like it.” Illiv continued, “I made the Vix Agarra to be a weapon. I wanted everyone to be a part of it, regardless of whether or not they understood the truth of Death. Something you understand, don’t you? Why do you kill things, Engrad?” “Because I have to.” His answer was automatic. Illiv nodded. “Exactly. You, I. We’re different than most of the others here. We don’t even have to consider options. We know that the answer to all of the world’s problems is to kill them. To kill everything. But most people can’t understand that. They’d call us monsters, but we’re fully sane. We’ve just seen a truth that they haven’t.” “And the point of the Vix Agarra is to kill as many people as possible?” “Not exactly. It’s to perform the duties of the Seven. However, religions are a sham. Men are fools, they’re greedy. Weak. The Vix Agarra will become a merchant organization if people like Botard let it. A kingdom, and a good one, under Evaerus. And in some ways it needs to be those things to survive. However, myself, and a few people like me who know the truth must guide it. People like you. I’d like you to be one of our Reavers, Engrad. Just go about your normal business. Don’t ever tell anyone. But you only take orders from me. If you get into trouble with a higher ranking Vix, I will see to it that you are unharmed. You sit within the organization, but you’re outside of it. You help control it. By killing.” Engrad was pleased. He had a feeling that the Vix Agarra were missing something; that he understood it better than the others back at Arkrest, and now Illiv, the man who created it, validated his beliefs. He had made the right choice. This was a man he could work with, who understood death like the others didn’t. “Yes. That sounds perfect. That’s actually what I was looking for when I joined Botard. You just put it into better words than I could.” They shook hands. “I’m going to go check in on Evaerus. You will hear from me again soon.” *********************** “I spoke to Engrad. He said you killed one of our men. You’ll be well enough organize all the burying of the dead tomorrow, won’t you? We talked about it, we have to bury all the ones we killed. That means Gikken. The one you cut down. We never forget the dead. Our burden. Furthermore, Engrad told me that Laesya was doing some interesting things with you after you were felled in battle.” Illiv had sent away the others in the healers tent, it was just him and Evaerus. “Yeah, he was actually pretty clever about it. He just praised my incredible killing powers, blah blah. Talked about how chosen I must be by Unquala. Probably saved my reputation, because really after that fight it was either ‘Five-spawned ax murderer’ or ‘Unquala-spawned ax murderer.’” “Mmmmm, well played indeed. That monk is too clever. Engrad is going to keep an eye on him. You should still be more remorseful for Gikken.” I mean the guy joined a cult that worships the goddess of death, he had to know there would be potential consequences.” Illiv raised an eyebrow. “And let me tell you, that Engrad is insubordinate. I feed our men a healthy breakfast of mead every morning, and I left him in charge of them the other week when I left to go treat with Tighan, and you know what he did?” “No? I do not.” “I come back and they’re all sober and running drills. How the hell are we supposed to defeat the enemy if half our men are too tired from pushups? A disgrace to authority is what that was.” Illiv stared at Evaerus and he stared back. “I’m a blacksmith, go fuck yourself.” They both laughed.